In a modest yet cozy apartment on the seventh floor of an aging housing complex in Hangzhou, a soft rustle echoed as Jiang Yule buried himself deeper into his blanket, ignoring the buzzing alarm that had gone off — twice.
"Yule! You're going to miss orientation again!" his mother's voice rang from the kitchen, half exasperated, half fond.
"Five more minutes, Mom," he groaned dramatically, rolling over.
"You said the same thing five minutes ago!"
A small thud followed. His younger brother, Jiang Ming, had launched a pillow missile straight to his head. "Lazy pig! You promised you'd help me build my science project!"
Jiang Yule shot up, hair sticking out like a startled hedgehog. "Aiyo! My genius!I forgot!"
"You always forget unless it's food or cute boys!" Ming stuck out his tongue.
"Oh shut it, donkey." Yule jumped off the bed and tackled his brother with a playful lock trying to pin ming to the ground, both of them started laughing and rolling on the floor.
Their mother peeked in, shaking her head with a smile. "I don't know if I'm sending my son to university or back to kindergarten."
"University, Maa. But I promise I'll return with two degrees and maybe a boyfriend."
"A boyfriend won't pay your rent," she said dryly, but her lips twitched.
Their father sipped his tea from the corner. "If he brings someone rich, maybe he won't need to pay rent either."
The house erupted into laughter.
This was Jiang Yule's world — warm, noisy, full of bickering, and bursting with affection. His family wasn't wealthy, but love was never in short supply.
As he rushed through breakfast — toast half in his mouth, half burnt — his parents handed him his bag, wallet, and a tiny container of steamed dumplings. "You'll miss home food in hostel," his mother said.
"I'll cry every night," he sniffled exaggeratedly.
"We know," they replied in unison.
---
Meanwhile, across town, the atmosphere in Shen Qingyan's world was starkly different.
The boy stood in front of the mirror, buttoning his plain black shirt with mechanical precision. The room was clean — spotless, even — but not cozy. No sounds of clanging dishes or siblings fighting. Just silence.
His best friend and only roommate, Lu Zhi, popped his head in. "You're ready early."
"Habit," Shen Qingyan replied coolly.
Lu Zhi smirked. "You act like orientation's a war."
"It's a system. You learn the layout, the crowd, where to avoid, who to avoid."
"And maybe who to befriend?"
"No one worth befriending in the first week."
"You didn't even meet them yet!"
Shen Qingyan shot him a look. "That's the point."
Lu Zhi sighed, flopping on the couch. "It's been three years and you're still the same. Cold and calculating."
"Better than being careless and disappointed."
The weight in those words hung between them.
Shen Qing wasn't trying to be cruel. He had simply learned the hard way — attachments led to expectations, and expectations led to pain. After being shuffled through seven orphanages, one foster care, and four schools, he had built walls thicker than concrete.
Except with Lu Zhi. He was the only person who had stood beside him through it all. But even Lu Zhi knew there were doors in Shen's heart that remained locked.
"You know," Lu Zhi muttered, tying his shoes, "you could at least smile when people talk to you. Pretend you're not a vampire."
"I smile when it's necessary."
"Define 'necessary'?"
"When I'm trying to win a debate or stab someone emotionally."
Lu Zhi laughed. "God help your future boyfriend."
"There won't be one."
"You'll eat those words."
---
At the university campus later that day, fate — or mischief — decided to stir things.
Jiang Yule stood gawking at the massive orientation notice board, dumpling box still in hand, trying to make sense of his schedule.
"Why are there six columns and four rooms per subject?" he muttered. "Are they training us to be spies?"
Someone beside him chuckled. "You too?"
Jiang turned to find a girl with bubblegum-pink hair and a nose piercing. "Hi! I'm Yueyue. You look lost."
"Completely. I'm Jiang Yule. First-year engineering major."
"Ah, we're same department! Come on, I figured out the code after twenty minutes and one breakdown. Let me save your soul."
"Bless your pink hair," he grinned.
They walked off chattering, Yule's animated gestures drawing amused glances from others.
A short distance away, Shen Qingyan observed the scene silently from the staircase railing. His eyes didn't miss anything — the dumpling box, the genuine smile, the loud laughter. His expression didn't change, but Lu Zhi, standing beside him, noticed the tiny flicker in his gaze.
"Someone caught your eye?"
"No," Shen said instantly.
"Liar. You stared like you wanted to sketch his soul."
"I'm not interested."
"Not now," Lu Zhi said knowingly.
---
And thus, the first threads were woven — a boy born into warmth and chaos, and another carved from silence and caution.
They had yet to meet.
But the universe, ever the playwright, had already written Act One.
-----
After few days,Jiang Yule sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, casually scrolling through his university portal on his laptop. A tiny notification in red blinked on the top right corner.
> [Notice]: Your hostel dormitory application has been approved. Allotted dormitory: Building 7, Room 304. Kindly report on campus next Saturday.
He blinked. Then blinked again.
"Oh," he mumbled, mostly to himself.
"Yule! Come have dinner!" his mom called from the kitchen, the smell of stir-fried bok choy and sesame oil wafting down the hallway.
He padded out of his room, phone in hand.
"Ma," he said, sliding into his seat, "I got the dorm confirmation. They've given me a room."
His mother froze for a second, chopsticks hovering mid-air. "So soon? When do you have to shift?"
"Next Saturday," he said, stuffing a dumpling into his mouth to soften the mood.
His younger brother perked up. "Nice! So I get your room?"
"Shut up," Jiang Yule said, nudging him with a grin.
His mother sighed and placed a big bowl of soup in front of him. "You'll miss my cooking in two days."
"I already miss it," Yule said dramatically, "and I haven't even left."
His father, who had been reading the paper, finally chimed in. "Living in a dorm will be good for you. Learn independence, handle your own laundry, cook—"
"Cook?" his mother interrupted, frowning. "I'll pack him a month's worth of snacks and dry chutneys."
Jiang Yule laughed, touched by the worry hiding behind her fussiness. "Ma, not too much, or the warden will think I'm starting a canteen."
She snorted but smiled.
As the dinner continued with playful banter and mock arguments about what he should pack, a gentle warmth settled in Jiang Yule's heart. He was about to leave the comfort of this home — this table, this food, these small, loud moments — and step into the vast unknown. But for now, he savored every bite of his mother's cooking like it was a treasure.
One week left. And suddenly, it didn't feel like enough time.
------
Saturday morning arrived with a swirl of excitement and nervous anticipation. Jiang Yule stood at the entrance of the university dormitory, a duffel bag slung across his shoulder and a small suitcase in hand. His mother had insisted on packing extra snacks, despite him telling her multiple times that the cafeteria served decent food.
He found Room 304 easily — third floor, end of the hallway. The door was wide open, sunlight pouring in from the window. Inside, the room was modest but clean: twin beds, two desks, a tall shelf, and a standing fan that hummed softly. A guy in a loose t-shirt and messy hair was sprawled on one bed, earbuds in, watching something on his tablet and munching on chips.
Jiang blinked. "Uh... Room 304?"
The boy looked up, bright grin already in place. "Yep! You're the other half of this luxury suite?"
Jiang chuckled. "If that's what we're calling it, then yeah. Jiang Yule, first-year Engineering."
"Zhang Qiren, same! Civil engineering." He jumped off the bed and offered a cheerful handshake, chips still in the other hand. "I came yesterday to grab the better bed near the window. Hope that's cool?"
"Totally fair," Jiang smiled, shaking his hand. "And I like staying near the door anyway. Less walking to the bathroom."
"Exactly! See? We already have dorm chemistry."
As Jiang set down his bags and started unpacking, Qiren plopped back on the bed, legs dangling off the side. "So where are you from?"
"From Ningbo. You?"
"Hangzhou. Hot food, hotter weather, and an even hotter little brother I left behind."
Jiang laughed. "Nice. And I brought enough snacks to survive midterms. Want some?"
"Bless your soul!" Qiren exclaimed, already reaching for a packet. "You'll make a great roommate. My last one in summer camp snored alot and hated spicy food."
"I don't snore," Jiang grinned, "but I do hog the bathroom mirror."
"That's fine, I barely look in mirrors. Confidence, bro. Fake it till you make it."
As the sun dipped lower, they chatted about professors, the strict mess timings, and rumors of a ghost on the second floor. Qiren showed Jiang how to push the fan for better cross-ventilation and warned him that the guy in Room 302 had already claimed the washing machine every Sunday morning.
That night, as they both lay in their beds, Jiang stared up at the ceiling with a small smile.
"You'll like it here," Qiren mumbled through his blanket. "This place grows on you."
"I think it already has," Jiang whispered back.
And just like that, Room 304 became a space not just for study, but for laughter, friendship, and countless stories waiting to unfold.